by Sarah Gerdes
“This is a great song,” he said. “I like it.”
“You should,” she murmured happily. “It’s how I feel.” The warmth of his fingers had moved just below her collarbone. She closed her eyes, momentarily wondering what being loved by Lars in its entirety would mean.
“You are exquisite,” he said quietly. His hands purposefully moved the soft line of her sweater to her shoulders so he could continue caressing her skin. He leaned against her, his fingers continuing down within her bra, along the sides of her breasts, curling beneath. Lars’ thumbs lifted up, passing over her nipples, then down again, feeling her, arousing her as she involuntarily straightened her back and groaned. She was glad their relationship had taken time, the progression natural, slowly evolving, leading up to this moment. The anticipation of the inevitable greater than she’d ever imagined.
“Danielle, do you know me well enough now?”
She lifted her hands from the keyboard. “We’re on the right path.”
CHAPTER 42
That night, Danielle went to bed buoyant with happiness. As hard as it was, she’d kept Lars in the living room, her clothes on, and had him take her home after an hour. The man would have the rest of the weekend to think about their first date, and on Monday she’d see how he behaved.
The week began and Lars stopped by her office in the afternoon, congratulating her on her numbers. Tuesday and Wednesday were marked only by short management meetings led by Lars and by Thursday, she found herself craving his presence. On Friday, the clock in the lower right hand corner of her computer was a source of constant distraction. There was no subtlety about her feelings. They were right at the surface, like a fish looking for a morsel of food.
Early afternoon, a phone call came through and she saw the extension.
“Yes?” she politely answered.
“Did I tell you what time tomorrow?” Lars asked.
“You did not.”
“How about ten am? I’ll pick you up.”
“That works.”
“And I’ll suggest that you will be most comfortable in jeans, long sleeves and a light coat. It’s getting colder even during the day.”
Danielle thanked him, lowering her voice. “And a return time?”
“We will return to the city late afternoon.”
“That’s not really helpful, if you know what I mean.”
Lars laughed lightly. “I know exactly what you mean. That part is up to you. See you tomorrow.”
Danielle could think of no better way to get her mind off Lars than to ask Lani and Stephen to go dancing with her that evening. She dropped by Johanne’s office and learned that he would be at the club with Dario. She told him the later the better.
“Will I meet him?” he asked curiously.
Danielle shook her head no. “That’s why I’m going dancing with my friends and you guys. I can’t see him until tomorrow and I need to release some energy.”
Stephen was up for dancing after the restaurant closed, and she offered to come over for a few hours to clean up or serve if needed.
“It’s your restaurant too,” Stephen replied. “Serve or clean the floors or just stand there.”
“Stephen, before you hang up, how is everything going with Lani? Okay?”
“I was wondering if and when you were going to ask. I’m invoking what Lani suggested was Swiss-level patience with her. The kind Andre didn’t have.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
Stephen did his version of a grumble. “I’m just so ready Danielle. Over ready.”
“You sound like an American woman. You want it all and you want it now.”
“Yes, but I want Lani more, and that got lost somewhere in my zeal for kids.”
“Yeah, well as you have always said, Swiss men keep their passions underground. I’ll see you soon.”
Danielle left the office at three-thirty and was in the kitchen of the restaurant by a quarter after four. Lani was in good spirits, waving to her from the kitchen as her staff quietly prepped the food for the evening.
“How’s my favorite Italian?” Danielle said, greeting Ivan with a kiss on the cheek.
“Perfecto bella,” he said. Together they set out the tableware, greeting the other staff as they arrived. Danielle was in the back when she heard Stephen greet a familiar voice.
“What are you doing here?” Danielle asked Lars as she came to the front. He was dressed in deep blue jeans, a pullover cashmere top with a hoodie and a canvas and leather jacket with intricate stitching.
“Eating,” he said with a smile. He came over to her, impervious to the stares of the other servers, and wrapped his arms around her. His full-bodied embrace and kiss had the explosive effect of wiping away her plans for the night. Just as abruptly he released her, moving to a seat at the counter.
She followed him. “You do realize I had nothing better to do this evening?” Her tone was scolding.
“And then what?” he asked as he looked down at the menu set before him.
“I’m going dancing with my friends and Johanne and his boyfriend.”
Lars’ eyes stayed focused on the menu. “I actually like clubs and dancing.” He turned from the menu, looking down at her feet and then all the way up to her eyes. She felt like he’d just undressed her.
“You looked striking today, by the way,” he told her. “But this is very natural and rough. Also wonderful.” Danielle gave him a wide smile. She’d changed from her Chloe, pin-striped suit and black heels with her hair up to show off her pearl earrings to multi-colored calf-high Old Gringo boots, a one-piece cotton dress that landed mid-thigh, a large, red rose embroidered on the back, the small Double D insignia in the upper right of her breast.
“I told you I’m an Oregon girl,” she said with a coy smile, seeing his eyes had landed on the Double D.
“And what does the Oregon girl want?” he asked.
“You.” She gave him a wink and left, helping the guests who were now seated in her section. Danielle monitored Lars over the next hour, assured he was content to eat and read his phone, intermittently talking with Stephen. She almost dropped her plate when she saw Lani extending her hand which Lars accepted with a curious smile on his face.
Well, we are friendly Americans, Danielle thought.
Once she saw Paul place the bill in front of Lars, she made her way to him. “And? Are we still waiting until tomorrow?”
He nodded, taking in the full house. “It’s busy here and I don’t want you to be tired.” His lips motionless but his eyes alight with desire. “But take this,” he said, slipping her a piece of paper. “I don’t believe you have my phone number. Now you do.”
“You’ll be home tonight?” she asked quizzically. She had an image of Lars always entertaining and being out on the town.
He stood, leaning into her. “I don’t go out to fill my time, Danielle,” his lips brushing her ear. “I’ll be home if you call.”
As the shift ended, Danielle told Lani and Stephen the desire to go dancing had left her. She wanted to be with one person, and it wasn’t Johanne or Dario. Even so, she waited until midnight to call Lars.
“Why aren’t you out at the club?” he asked her. His voice sounded like he was lounging in sleepwear, relaxing with his computer on his lap because he was at ease, but very, very awake.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” she asked in return.
“I was waiting for you to call.” They both paused before simultaneously laughing. Lars spoke first. “And I can see you waited until it was too late for me to come get you.”
“Maybe,” she admitted, smiling to herself.
“You are so easy to read,” he said, sighing. “But I am curious as to why you didn’t go.”
“If I’m so easy to read, you tell me,” she said tritely.
Lars chuckled. “Because you wanted to be with me but aren’t ready to spend the night.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, the single word containing layers of emoti
on that she’d not yet conveyed. There was nothing else to say.
“Well, then let’s hope tonight passes quickly.”
She skipped the long bath, not feeling the desire to have warm water around her stomach. Instead, she warmed a cup of milk and added honey. She needed every inducement to fall asleep, because thoughts of Lars weren’t making it easy.
CHAPTER 43
At 9:58 am Saturday morning, the doorbell rang and Danielle practically skipped to open it. As suggested, she wore jeans, grey this time, with stitching down the sides and short wedge boots that she knew would be acceptable for driving if she was given the chance. It was clear but cold outside, so she’d opted for a sky-blue cashmere turtleneck. Her own leather jacket was a brown bomber style landing just below her hips, the belt synched against her waist, the chestnut-colored shearing around the collars and wrists. It was perfect for a day like today.
Lars scoped her head to toe when he she opened the door, the flick of his eyes stopping at hers. He held out his hand, and she took it, willingly being drawn into his arms.
“That’s it?” he asked her, looking at her bag.
“This, my uber-informed boyfriend, is called a hobo-bag for a very good reason,” she told him, scooting him back, shutting the door behind her. “Because a hobo can put many things inside it, and the casual observer would never know the difference.” Lars made no motion to go towards the elevator. “What?” she asked gaily.
“Boyfriend?” he repeated.
She cocked her eyebrow flirtatiously. “While I think the ‘companion’ phrase is very elegant, it doesn’t have the defining ring to it of boyfriend. And uber is the super, mega kind of adjective that encompasses everything I could imagine and have…” she paused, “in you. Unless of course, you have other women that you are simultaneously wining and dining around town?”
She caught her breath as his hands slipped to her jeans pockets, his fingers moving within and gripping, lifting her up and into his pelvis.
“And you accuse me of saying things when I already know the answer?” She giggled first, then lost herself in his warm lips and smooth skin.
“How long is the drive?” she mumbled.
“Long enough,” he managed to say, his grip still firm. “So we better get going.”
As Dominic drove the BMW limousine series through the mountains and the flatlands, Danielle kept Lars talking. In his own way, he was as informative as Andre, his insight into the lives of the people who lived and worked in the area colored with the lens of a financier. Once, during the journey, Andre came up. It was when Lars was referencing the old, prominent families who had towns named after them.
“He was foolish, you know,” Lars said abruptly. His right elbow was propped up on the windowsill, his fingers to his head in thought.
“Who, Andre?”
Lars nodded. “All he had to do was wait it out. Then you’d be free to do what you wanted. It was in the contract, black and white.” Danielle felt like a grey cloud had passed in front of the sun, giving her a chill. “I would have waited,” he told her, his eyes strong, his jaw set. Danielle could see him making a different choice than Andre, but it wasn’t a fair comparison.
“Maybe that’s what ten years buys you,” she said evenly. “A bit of wisdom and foresight.”
Lars’ eyes were unmoving. “Enough wisdom to know what I have,” he told her, “in my girlfriend.” The way he said it made her laugh.
“Is that a foreign word to you?” she asked.
“No, it’s not that. For the first time since secondary school, I finally have a woman by my side who’s unencumbered by an existing relationship or a husband.”
“A dubious distinction,” she acknowledged. “Not to be married or otherwise tied down,” she said, impishly. “Of course, I might be tied up, at some point.” She erupted in laughter, falling backwards into the seat. Her pleasure grew when his lips connected with the exposed skin on her neck, and his fingers began pushing under her soft top.
“See,” she murmured. “I don’t always make it hard to be romantic. I make it easy.” Lars lightly bit her neck in response, working his way down her chest even though her turtleneck was still in place. Well, she wasn’t going to make it that easy.
Racing was a thrill. Lars drove a Ferrari around the five-kilometer racetrack for twenty minutes as his friend Nicolas, a well-built man in his mid-forties, explained the course, the cars and the skills required to drive on his track.
Danielle found it easy to speak with the man, and as Lars raced around the track, the engine roared like a plane as he sped by, she learned more about Nicolas and, by association, Lars. Nicolas was a divorced father of one who applauded Lars for finding a woman such as herself. His grey eyes took her in, but not inappropriately so. “As Lars said, it’s not easy to find your equal.”
Danielle felt a warmth spread through her, flooding her from her core outward. When Lars pulled in, she felt a surge of excitement and eagerness. As he walked toward her and Nicolas, he removed his helmet, running his fingers through his dark hair. His eyes were alight with adrenaline, the smile as wide and satisfied as she’d ever seen. It took all she had to stand there as he and Nicolas fell into a conversation about the track conditions and performance of the car.
Lars unzipped his jacket, letting it hang open as he placed a hand on the guard rail. She moved behind him, placing her hands on his stomach, under his coat, resting her chin on his shoulder. He paused ever so slightly, as if the significance of her act hit him. His right hand moved into her hair and she kissed his neck once, then politely listened.
In that moment, she belonged to him. She didn’t need to sleep with him to feel any closer.
“You ready to drive?” Nicolas asked her.
“Not right at this moment,” she responded, hugging Lars tight. “But I will if you make me.”
With a laugh, she released Lars and carefully listened to Nicolas’ instructions. There was a moment where she looked up and made eye contact with Lars. She didn’t mean to convey all that she felt for him, and how he fulfilled her intellectually, physically and now on levels of emotion she thought were going to be untapped for a long time, but she did. His eyes narrowed and his lips spread outward from the center. He knew.
Nicolas sat in the passenger side, accompanying her for the first few laps. After she’d successfully completed five minutes of drive time, he had her pull over and let him out.
“You have this,” he said, sounding awfully American.
For the next fifteen minutes, she was in her element, driving up to speeds of 200 kilometers per hour, but only on the straightaways, slowing down to eighty on the banked curves. When she emerged, she handed her helmet to Nicolas, effusively thanking him for the opportunity to drive his car.
“Did I hear you downshifting on the corners?” Lars asked her.
“Yes and I did it with vigor.” His arm went around her shoulder as he and his friend discussed when to get together next.
“You are a natural,” Nicolas told her. “Come up anytime.”
As soon they were back in the car, Danielle noticed Lars staring at her.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked him. He touched the leather in between them, and she slid over.
“You,” he said. It was late afternoon when Danielle saw the signs for the Zurich city limits, and her stomach let it be known she was hungry. He willingly agreed to her suggestion of take-out from Stars and Stripes. Danielle wondered if Lars had told Stephen that she was in the car, waiting. Probably not. He was discrete that way, she thought with a smile.
Minutes later, the metal gate of the underground parking structure at Lars’ building rose in a paced fashion, far more evenly than her heart was beating. A week ago, she’d issued Lars a challenge to remain the same at the office. He’d done that and more. He’d opened his very private life to her.
The metal hit the top and Dominic pulled the car forward. She glanced over at Lars. He’d been watching her, assessing her
with those ever observant eyes.
“No hesitation?” he asked her quietly. She could have fallen into his arms right then, and her eyes told him so.
CHAPTER 44
Danielle had been standing by a dark end table, looking out to the water when he’d come behind her. At his touch, she closed her eyes, leaning her head back, their cheeks meeting. Lars kept running his fingers along her skin, patiently exploring her waist and stomach, her thighs and hips.
“Danielle,” Lars said quietly. “Let’s finish what we started on the gondola.” In the still of the room, with the light of the moon reflecting on the dark water before her, Danielle experienced the height of physical pleasure, her thoughts, intellect and aspirations for herself unified in the man with her.
Much later, they made it to the master bedroom and fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. Once she’d been awakened by her desire, touched him until he opened his eyes, a willing participant. Now he held her, stroking her hair, touching his fingers to her chest, tracing her lines with the delicacy of a curator appreciating a priceless work of art.
Danielle turned in order to kiss his bare chest. She felt the soft, raised lines of scars, and he told her that he’d received them from falls during rock climbing expeditions. She asked him about the danger factor of his activities.
“The risk is manageable,” he said, sounding awfully objective.
“You told me that in the office, when you had the bandage on your face. Seriously,” she continued, sitting up. She’d just gotten to know him and didn’t want a premature accident to interrupt their lives. Lars responded with a hug and a kiss.
“These are old, from when I was just learning. That last instance was a fluke. I’m very careful with all things in my life.”
“So I see.” Danielle felt the invisible shield of strength that seemed to surround him envelope her.